Reflections on Lollapalooza
HOOOKAAAAAAY.
Well, this weekend was the big fat music festivus for the rest of us known as Lollapalooza.
It was a lot of fun, for the most part, and really, it was just a chance to be outside, drink some beer, and get exposed to some good music.
However.
I can safely say that my youth, officially, has taken its leave.
I am no longer young.
I am no longer tolerant.
I am now "that concert goer" who really wishes the young kids would take their weed and bad manners someplace else. It got to a point where had not cooler heads prevailed, I could very well have gotten into 3 separate fights.
I swear to God. I now realize how fucking annoying I must have been as a younger person; using concerts as nothing more than an opportunity to get high and drink as much as possible, and the music be damned.
Case in point.
Stephen Marley. Whose set, by the way was the highlight of the weekend for me.
I forget very often how much I love reggae.
But anyway, there was a gaggle of a graduating class a few feet from us and they spent the entire time smoking joint after joint, fighting over said joints and concentrating heavily and loudly on participating in the obligatory balloon/beachball surfing. This included a lot of jumping around, crashing into people and an obscene amount of high-fiving. It was retarded.
And all during "No Woman No Cry."
And look, it's a fucking TREAT when Stephen does his father's work. Not only because the Wailers are still sleepwalking through it, but because the man has his own pretty awesome body of work. And yet, he gives us the gift of a rousing "Buffalo Soldier". So, fucking appreciate it, you sons of bitches! (One Love!)
So, then, we go see Spoon. Now, personally, I don't get the draw of this band. They're bland, their showmanship sucks, and honestly, so do their fucking fans. I am absolutely blown away at the lack of basic manners people have. Seriously. I was cut in front of, shoved, and stepped on more times than I can count.
I know..I know. It's a concert. It's what happens. But you know what? I don't have trouble respecting other people's space. The people I hang out with dont have trouble either. So, what it boils down to is pure, unadulterated selfishness and rudeness.
There was a girl who literally grabbed on to my friend's backpack to hoist herself up in the air to scream at the lead singer a request, an I LOVE YOU MARRY ME, and then more unintelligible screaming. To which I responded:
"Excuse me. No. Do not do that again."
Her brilliant Mensa-ian justification:
"Um, it's a SHOW. I PAID to be here."
My response:
"I didn't. And that still doesn't mean you can go around grabbing strangers, so fucking knock it off."
It got to a point where I actually used a cigarette and the issuing smoke to get rid of someone who had wedged himself right in front of where I was standing where there had previously been no room. It worked. I laughed.
By Sunday, I'd pretty much had it with the crowds, the heat, I was pissed at the guy I'm sort of seeing for being like 3 hours late meeting me.
We managed to get a spot right up front for the Wailers. It was a disappointment.
More 17 year olds and their fucking obsession with smoking as much weed as possible.
It made it absolutely impossible for me to enjoy an otherwise mediocre show (see reference above) because every time I started getting a groove on, I had some kid bending over in front of me to toke off a ridiculously huge fucking pipe while almost stepping on my feet. Then some random girl shoved her way into the two inches of space in front of me. It was at that point that I turned to my friend and said,
"That's it. I'm fucking out of here."
So, we retreated to the back of the crowd and went to find the rest of the group.
For all of that, I opted to miss Iggy Pop.
I could just cry about it.
But, anyway, all in all, it was a really great weekend. I got to meet some really cool new people. I got to see G Love and Special Sauce do "Baby's Got Sauce" AND "Cold Beverages" AAAAAND "Why don't We do it in the Road", and just enjoy Grant Park and my beautiful city for 3 days.
One final thought.
I'm thinking of writing to the Lollapalooza booking department because they really did a shit-ass job of booking bands so that one could enjoy all the big acts that were playing. I couldn't see My Morning Jacket because Modest MOuse was playing at the total opposite end of the universe at the exact same time. I didn't go see Iggy Pop because he was playing at the same time The Wailers played. It was altogether very frustrating.
So. Yeah.
I'll post some pictures later.
Peace.
Well, this weekend was the big fat music festivus for the rest of us known as Lollapalooza.
It was a lot of fun, for the most part, and really, it was just a chance to be outside, drink some beer, and get exposed to some good music.
However.
I can safely say that my youth, officially, has taken its leave.
I am no longer young.
I am no longer tolerant.
I am now "that concert goer" who really wishes the young kids would take their weed and bad manners someplace else. It got to a point where had not cooler heads prevailed, I could very well have gotten into 3 separate fights.
I swear to God. I now realize how fucking annoying I must have been as a younger person; using concerts as nothing more than an opportunity to get high and drink as much as possible, and the music be damned.
Case in point.
Stephen Marley. Whose set, by the way was the highlight of the weekend for me.
I forget very often how much I love reggae.
But anyway, there was a gaggle of a graduating class a few feet from us and they spent the entire time smoking joint after joint, fighting over said joints and concentrating heavily and loudly on participating in the obligatory balloon/beachball surfing. This included a lot of jumping around, crashing into people and an obscene amount of high-fiving. It was retarded.
And all during "No Woman No Cry."
And look, it's a fucking TREAT when Stephen does his father's work. Not only because the Wailers are still sleepwalking through it, but because the man has his own pretty awesome body of work. And yet, he gives us the gift of a rousing "Buffalo Soldier". So, fucking appreciate it, you sons of bitches! (One Love!)
So, then, we go see Spoon. Now, personally, I don't get the draw of this band. They're bland, their showmanship sucks, and honestly, so do their fucking fans. I am absolutely blown away at the lack of basic manners people have. Seriously. I was cut in front of, shoved, and stepped on more times than I can count.
I know..I know. It's a concert. It's what happens. But you know what? I don't have trouble respecting other people's space. The people I hang out with dont have trouble either. So, what it boils down to is pure, unadulterated selfishness and rudeness.
There was a girl who literally grabbed on to my friend's backpack to hoist herself up in the air to scream at the lead singer a request, an I LOVE YOU MARRY ME, and then more unintelligible screaming. To which I responded:
"Excuse me. No. Do not do that again."
Her brilliant Mensa-ian justification:
"Um, it's a SHOW. I PAID to be here."
My response:
"I didn't. And that still doesn't mean you can go around grabbing strangers, so fucking knock it off."
It got to a point where I actually used a cigarette and the issuing smoke to get rid of someone who had wedged himself right in front of where I was standing where there had previously been no room. It worked. I laughed.
By Sunday, I'd pretty much had it with the crowds, the heat, I was pissed at the guy I'm sort of seeing for being like 3 hours late meeting me.
We managed to get a spot right up front for the Wailers. It was a disappointment.
More 17 year olds and their fucking obsession with smoking as much weed as possible.
It made it absolutely impossible for me to enjoy an otherwise mediocre show (see reference above) because every time I started getting a groove on, I had some kid bending over in front of me to toke off a ridiculously huge fucking pipe while almost stepping on my feet. Then some random girl shoved her way into the two inches of space in front of me. It was at that point that I turned to my friend and said,
"That's it. I'm fucking out of here."
So, we retreated to the back of the crowd and went to find the rest of the group.
For all of that, I opted to miss Iggy Pop.
I could just cry about it.
But, anyway, all in all, it was a really great weekend. I got to meet some really cool new people. I got to see G Love and Special Sauce do "Baby's Got Sauce" AND "Cold Beverages" AAAAAND "Why don't We do it in the Road", and just enjoy Grant Park and my beautiful city for 3 days.
One final thought.
I'm thinking of writing to the Lollapalooza booking department because they really did a shit-ass job of booking bands so that one could enjoy all the big acts that were playing. I couldn't see My Morning Jacket because Modest MOuse was playing at the total opposite end of the universe at the exact same time. I didn't go see Iggy Pop because he was playing at the same time The Wailers played. It was altogether very frustrating.
So. Yeah.
I'll post some pictures later.
Peace.
posted by LC Greenwood at 10:12 AM
4 Comments:
First off, I was fucking amazed that Lollapalooza still existed. I honestly thought it was extinct (which is where it should have stayed). Second, I've been to... well, at least four concerts with you (U2, when they were still good, 2 Dead concerts, and the second Lollapalooza, which I remember totally blowing) when we were this age and we were NEVER at the level of obnoxiousness that these young whippersnappers seem to be displaying. There is still such a thing as etiquette, goddamnit. Isn't there?
SO glad I rarely go to concerts anymore.
The ratio of complete asses to normal people is like 274 to 1. They're either drunk, screaming the wrong lyrics, high as a kite, pushing past you to get to the front, or some really attractive combination.
Oh, and just because you mentioned Marleys... those guys and their entire band are a bunch of would-be rapists. My boneheaded sisters-in-law are just cute and blonde enough to have flirted their way backstage when they were about 22 at one of these Steve Marley shows.
After giving the guys their phone numbers about 4 years ago, they now go to every show (with that star-struck twinkle in their eyes) and every time they go back to the hotel with these guys where they spend 4 or 5 hours being fed drugs, groped and hit on all night by these grown men and whatever STD's they happen to be carrying.
Worth all the shame and topical salves if it means you can say you smoked pot with a descendant of Bob Marley, though... I suppose.
Everybody in that story though, just classy.
Aw man... see, this is why I stay away from backstage. I don't want to hear stories like that!!!
Sorry to harsh your mellow, kid.
Say, don't let it ruin the music for you, though.
The art is separate to a degree from its artist, right? Granted, it's more fun to love the person creating it as well, but it doesn't have to go hand in hand.
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